


two of us

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: Sportsfest 2018 [16]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, M/M, Selfcest, Sportsfest 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 15:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15318843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: His accent draws skid marks in the space between them, and his voice is smooth asotoro. Osamu sounds nothing like this. This is not his twin.There are two Miya Atsumus.





	two of us

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sportsfest 2018 Bonus Round 2: Quotes | [originally posted here](https://sportsfest.dreamwidth.org/8539.html?thread=965211#cmt965211)

_There are two of me, you know,_ Atsumu likes to say, and Osamu always looks at him the way he looks at a pudding cup he can’t open, like the plastic’s sealed so tight he has to bite down into the rim to make a dent. Little teeth marks, all around their edges.

 _Sure,_ Osamu says, and they do not speak any more of it.

 

* * *

 

There are two of him and the other one is a tug at the end of a pinky finger. He is not a promise but the smiling reflection of one, the thing you find when you turn a promise inside out, a red-threaded oath that finds its unerring way home when you do not want it. Atsumu first meets him in the school courtyard, under a maple tree. He is tossing a ball upwards and catching it as it falls. He does this so many times that he never sees Atsumu coming.

_What are you doing?_

_Becoming better,_ says the boy with a smirk that makes Atsumu lick his own lips.

His accent draws skid marks in the space between them, and his voice is smooth as _otoro_. Osamu sounds nothing like this. This is not his twin. That makes it okay, Atsumu reasons, when the volleyball drops and no one is around to see his own miss, when he smiles back and presses their identical bruised knuckles together and says, _show me what better is._

 

* * *

 

 _Would you like to meet him?_ he asks Osamu, in the middle of the night. He asks it when they are lying in their bunks and he knows from the sound of Osamu’s breathing that Osamu has yet to fall asleep.

Osamu’s answer never changes. He has said it so often that Atsumu can mouth the words along with him.

_No. One of you is more than enough._

Atsumu grins. _Some people think you’re me._

Osamu rolls over, grunts into his pillow and keeps his silence. Atsumu does not say what they are both thinking, that some people think he is Osamu too, that there are three of him and only one of them gets to be real at any one time.

 

* * *

 

He will swallow that voice like _otoro_ and it will slide down his throat, shameless and decadent. He will want more. He will always want more. Little teeth marks, all around their edges.

He will step on a shoelace that’s come undone, feel the ground give way beneath his feet as they lean into the shade of another tree. There is nothing sacred between selves who know each other far too well. There are two of him and one will melt in the heat of all that desire. There are three of him and two will link pinky fingers and make promises to be broken. At the end, it all leads back to him, there is only him.


End file.
